


Madness Is A Nuisance

by JinxxTheInsomniac



Series: Project Complexx [2]
Category: Arkham Asylum (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Emilie Autumn (Musician)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Insomnia, Inspired by the music of Emilie Autumn, OFC of an equally insane Arkham-Inmate - Freeform, Project Complexx, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxxTheInsomniac/pseuds/JinxxTheInsomniac
Summary: Harleen Quinzel is no longer in league with The Joker, Joker has been locked in Solitary Confinement for god knows how long, and Jinxx has just made herself comfortable within the decrepit, forsaken halls within Arkham Asylum.Will Jinxx manage to find her way out of Gotham's most secure Asylum? Or will she forever be just another dead face in a sea of dead faces.Read and find out.[EDITED AND REWROTE AS OF 1/15/18]





	1. Asylum, Insomnia Emporium

In a pocket dimension of the world, where the sun could not extinguish the penetrating chill within; Arkham Asylum stood like a shameless beacon of dysfunction.  For the criminally insane, it was as a labyrinthine of aisles and corridors: guarded by great brutes in white garbs who labored under the false delusion of generosity in their efforts.  To the self-entitled professionals roaming the higher-level offices and laboratories, it was a realm of malicious opportunity and corruption-- where the law held no grounds since these were but the lowly beasts that society had spit out.   It came as no surprise when the inmates who underwent the deadliest of procedures would also be the ones who had no one to search for them were they to disappear without a trace.  Out of the hundred-or-so Arkham patients to be unfortunate enough to reside within its ancient walls, about four of them had families on the other side to return home to when their duration of imprisonment had been completed.

                But to those unlucky dozens who’d been brought to Arkham as a way of figuring out if their crimes held a psychological foundation, it was almost guaranteed that they would not walk out as they’d walked in.

                The young Jane Doe, with her scrawny, malnourished gait, her ravaged tangerine locks, and her frightening mismatched eyes—one hazel, one gray--, had been left strapped down to the operating table and placed in a hallway where a number of other rusted, squeaking gurneys stood in wait.  A barred window glinted like a beacon of hope at the end of the corridor, but with the number of neglected medical equipment stacked in that alcove, which inadvertently guarded said window, it’d be all but impossible to reach it in a timely manner. 

It must’ve been hours since Jinxx’d last been confronted by another ward, and at this point she was starting to wonder if she was just going to be left there to rot for the remainder of time.  That suggestion was probably the best thing for the society having elected for her confinement.

                The dank, cold air of the drafty hallway had caused a violent spell of shivers to overtake her, to the point of appearing like seizures-- goosebumps now painting her scarred, alabaster flesh.  The leather and Velcro of the straps holding her down was starting to leave a burning rash over her wrists and ankles, which allowed for a slight distraction amidst the dim boredom she suffered.    

                They had told her this was a surgery intended to revive her ability to sleep…

                “Never let me sleep…” She murmured to no one, hearing her voice resonate through the dreary hallway.  

                If Jinxx knew anything about the carnage that went on within the operating room, it was that she would not survive the event that was apparently quite close to unfolding.

                A hiss, followed by a labored wheezing, suddenly filled her ears, signaling the approach of one of the transfers hopefully coming to take her away from the eternal boredom she’d been subject to.

                It wasn’t a warden.

                It was an inmate; A brutish-looking thug with a chip on his shoulder towards the female gender as a whole:  Bengamin Ramiraz. 

To say that Jinxx was less than thrilled to be in the presence of such an unpredictable resident of Arkham was a bit of an understatement and the fact that she couldn’t defend herself if he were to try and kill her simply confirmed that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant exchange.

                “Heh, heh, what’s this?” The bulbous serial-murderer coughed, spitting into a far corner.   Jinxx smiled despite herself, knowing that she could easily take down the moron if he felt clever enough to remove but one of her shackles.  

                It was mentioned once, long ago, that wolves would smile to their prey as a way of informing the victim of the horrendous torture they would no doubt endure in the coming moments.  Jinxx liked to think that her smile implied the same equally determining promise.  

                “It’s called a none-of-your-business… now scram, asshole.” Jinxx retorted, her eyebrows flinching upward for a moment as he sneered down at her.  She wasn’t afraid; she was hoping that he would get angry and make an attempt on her life so that she would have the chance of escaping.  Luckily for Jinxx, she’d developed a bit of street-cred whilst serving her time in Arkham, so nowadays it wasn’t an everyday occurrence for someone to start a fight against her.  At the most, she’d leave the skirmish with no more than a few cuts and bruises (and in one instance, a set of bite-marks), and her thoughtless opponent would leave the arena within an inch of their worthless life.

                A pungent odor violated her nostrils as the Ben beheld her fully, and Jinxx felt a wave of nausea punch her in the gut.  It was clear that the bleary-eyed murderer hadn’t showered in days, if not weeks--.  No, it’d definitely been weeks; a smell that strong took dedication to enact.

                “You little bitch… I’d watch my mouth if I was you.”

                Ben’s brown, crooked teeth emerged as a smile stretched across his great ugly face.

                “Or what?” She pursued, her mismatched eyes dancing mischievously.  “You’ll… kill me? punch me?  Smack me around like you did your kids before they arrested you?  Granted, if they’re anything like you, I would be disappointed too...”

Lifting her head off the gurney, she spit in his face before letting out a haughty cackle.  “You don’t scare me a bit.” 

                All she needed was for him to overturn her gurney and she could go on from there, but something deep down told her that she might’ve taken her childish taunting a bit too far.

                Against her original prediction, Ben flew into a rage like none she’d ever seen before (and she’d seen someone steal his lunchmeat for the day at one point.), which caused him to clench his beefy, calloused palms around her neck and squeeze.

                She hadn’t had a moment to take a deep breath; her eyes rolled into her head, her breathing came out in whisper-soft rasps, the air became even colder still…

                That’s when she’d felt something else, too.

                He was feeling up along her legs and beneath her hospital gown, his grimy fingers forcefully working between her legs.

                “That’s right, bitch… try and scream… they won’t hear you down here.”

                Her gown was forced up over her ribs, bunched into a ball, and suddenly pressed into her icy blue lips; effectively silencing her into submission while he toyed with her.  She hadn’t been expecting this level of violation and felt the nausea increase tenfold as great, heaving breaths tore from her nasal passageways.  Her head was spinning, her throat burned with the accumulation of patchy bruises emerging on her skin, and the miscellaneous sensations now involving her were all braiding together to trigger her into a loud sob, which wracked her wiry frame and caused her to shake with each intake of breath.  A loud rasping resonated from the overweight figure submerging her in shadow, which then sent her into a childish fright that she had no experience with feeling.

                Jinxx attempted to plead through the makeshift gag holding her tongue at bay, to pull herself free from the determined grip of the leather cuffs; nothing was proven effective.

                That’s when a most dreadful plan ensnared her thoughts, prompting her to calm down and, in fact, press herself insistently against his probing fingers.  A gnarled laugh slithered from between his clenched teeth at the turn of events in which Jinxx was exhibiting.

                “All you whores are the same; you’ll stop whining when you get your fuckholes stuffed.”

                Jinxx attempted to spit up the cloth still crammed into her mouth, and made quite a riot while doing so.  Ben turned around to scrutinize the scene before him and quirked an eyebrow.

                “Ya want to have that taken out?  You gonna be a good little girl if I do?”

                Jinxx pretended to contemplate his inquiry for a moment before nodding, her eyes wide and pleading.  Arousal drizzled around his fingers still stretching her inner walls, which probably served as ample proof of his inquiry.  He tore it from her mouth with one violent yank, which caused her to yelp in genuine surprise as her teeth clapped together.

                “I want to touch it… please..?” She pleaded, her hips lifting slightly to meet his finger’s rhythmic ministrations.

                That’s when he paused, his eyes darkening with lust.  He didn’t even need to answer her, for she already knew his answer.

                “Why..?  You wanna feel what I’ll be fuckin’ you wit?  Is that it?” He hacked another gob into a hidden corner.

                “I want to feel it… I’ve never felt one before.” She confided, her gaze wide and childish in nature.  He probably thought he was molesting a child from the level of malnourishment and stunted growth Jinxx had undergone… pervert.

                Either he was more of an idiot than even she’d thought, or he was too horny to think straight, but without even a second to think on the matter presented before him, he wasted no time in uncuffing both of her wrists in record time.  That’s when he proceeded to fight against the buttons of his jumpsuit before eventually pulling himself from the cloth confines and out towards her, the engorged appendage pulsing and leaking precum.  If Jinxx had thought his breath had stunk, his crotch was about ten times as rancid.  Her eyes watered as she bit back the urge to vomit upon the flavor hitting her dead-on.

                Jinxx’s eyes traced his oily features as she carefully wrapped her hand around him, feigning rookie cluelessness as he closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back in ecstasy. 

                That was what she was waiting for.

                After having contributed a few strokes of his cock, and hearing him moan softly from the subtle efforts, she allowed a dark smile to overtake her plump, red lips.  With both of her hands tightly wrapped around his member, she gave it one quick yank to one side, effectively snapping it like a dry twig.

                A shriek like a truck's horn tore from Ben’s throat as he shoved the gurney over and collapsed onto the ground, howling in agony as his hands clutched his injury.  Blood pooled between his legs, staining his jumpsuit and pooling on the ground beneath like ink.

                Jinxx pushed herself from the wall and made quick work of the buckles having ensnared her ankles.  Within moments, she was upright again, but now she was on borrowed time.  Ben’s signature baritone voice now resounding through the empty hallways in great, resounding trumps, and it surely wouldn’t be long before someone came to investigate what the ruckus was about.  Jinxx ran, her bare feet slapping rhythmically against the ground.  Luckily her gown was very short, so it offered little resistance as she charged like an Olympian runner. 

                She should’ve broken his neck to ensure his silence on the matter, Jinxx realized with an aggravated huff.

                She was fast arriving to the Therapy Rooms where her psychologist would undoubtedly be waiting.  By now, behind her, there were muffled voices echoing amidst Ben’s incessant crying, signaling the last few moments of Jinxx’s freedom. 

                Calming her labored breathing, she strode promptly to Dr. Christopher’s office.   


	2. Lunatics are Dangerous

His crystalline-blue eyes lifted to the door’s abrupt opening.  This time his patient hadn’t been flanked by two guards; wonderful, perhaps they were beginning to trust her with the more trivial aspects of life within the asylum.  A handsome smile creased his features as she sat down with as much grace as could be offered, crossing her nimble legs daintily.

                But inside, she was celebrating.  This meeting would confirm whether or not her overly-mushy, delusional love letter had reached its desired audience, and would also further her intentions to escape the Asylum.  It wouldn’t be long now.

                “How have you been this morning?  I know yesterday we got off on sort-of a coarse topic… Do you want to go back to that subject? Or progress onto something else entirely?”

                He was giving her a choice in the matters of her fate.  How touching.

                Jinxx feigned nervousness by shifting a little in the aged leather sofa on which she sat.  

                “We can keep going…” She replied, her head bowed to conceal away the smile on her lips.

                Christopher did not respond and instead took to watching his patient while she fidgeted.

                “I found something yesterday…” He announced after a while, his voice piercing the silent air like a rock through a glass window.  Jinxx looked up, skeptically for a moment at her Doctors proclamation.  A prideful smile couldn’t help but emerge on her lips as a result.

                “Yea?”

                With her response, Dr. Christopher raised a small, unevenly folded shred of paper from behind the notepad sitting on his lap; the page itself hosting a plethora of childish scribbles done in crayon.  Jinxx pretended to be flustered at the doctors ‘discovery’, her hands bunching into the hem of her nightgown as her eyes glanced at his every few moments.

                “Is this for me?” He asked, as though he were speaking to a toddler and not a fully-grown woman.  Jinxx swallowed her pride and gave a slight nod of her head, causing Christopher to fall back against his chair in satisfaction.

                “Attraction to an individual you see on a regular basis isn’t a crime, Jane…”

                Jinxx visibly flinched at the alias being forcefully instated while she stayed in Arkham. 

                “My name isn’t ‘Jane’.” She shot back angrily while her hands bunched into tight fists.  “And it’s not a crush.”

                Jinxx looked directly at Dr. Christopher Kellend directly for the first time that day, her face contorted with spite.

                Christopher gaped for a split-second before reassuming his usual calm demeanor. “Then what is it?”

                He was ignoring the distaste she harbored against the false name, but that didn’t matter.

                That’s when the young girl, with her vibrant-colored hair fanned out in a plethora of tangles and mats, began guiding her fingers up to rest at the base of her hips.  The white panties donated to her by the Asylum were now visible as she watched Dr. Kellend with what could’ve been intense arousal. 

                “I want to do what ladies do… I want to have sex…” She murmured while she nonchalantly hooked her thumbs beneath the elastic of her undergarments.  Christopher was frozen, his hazel eyes glancing between her face and the conjunction of her legs.  

                “Put your gown down, Jane, please… This is not appropriate.”

                Now it was Christopher’s turn to become flustered, sweat gleaming against the side of his face as he gulped nervously.  But Jinxx would not relent, and instead proceeded to stand up from her seat before sauntering towards the therapist, swaying her hips seductively. 

                “Please, sir?  It’s been so long since I’ve felt physical affection… Oh, how I miss it…”

                “J-Jane… You-you can’t…”

                By now she stood over him, her knees separating so that she might straddle his.  With her hands having fallen against either of his shoulders, it took a moment for her to pry the notebook out of his clammy palms before tossing it to the side.  The love-letter she’d composed to him fluttered like a moth through the air for a moment before also adjourning to the floor.

                That’s when her hands had begun to roam over his chest, but not before his beefier palms abruptly clenched around her wrists, causing her to jump back with a start.

                “I’m telling you, you need to stop--.”

                With the confinement of her wrists, Jinxx had moved to the next available course of action she had at her disposal.  Falling forward, she crushed her lips against the psychologist, granting him open-mouthed kisses of which he neglected to end.   The grips of his hands around hers waned until they fell around her hips, pressing her closer against him.  She was so tiny in comparison to the taller man; like a doll in most aspects.  Her hands fell against his hips, her fingers worming throughout his suit-pants feverishly.  He was numb from the intense arousal coursing through his every nerve, barely understanding that she wasn’t simply trying to remove his slacks. 

                She leaned so that her lips were mere inches from his ear, a soft giggle resonating into his, causing him to moan softly. “You would fuck one of your patients, doctor?”

                He froze, confusion and bewilderment replacing the prior evidence of arousal in his features.  Jinxx slid lithely off the man’s lap and giggled sweetly, her hands behind her back as Christopher abruptly straightened, reaching to replace his belt…

                Which was still entirely intact.

                But what had she…?

                “Are you looking for something, doctor?” Jinxx inquired rhetorically, her mismatched eyes glistening with mischief.  Christopher froze, his gaze returning to hers as she revealed what had been hidden behind her.

                A tranquilizer-gun, which was kept in case of a patient becoming unhinged during a given session, and the keys to the Asylum.  She jangled the keyring gleefully as she pointed the barrel at the terrified psychologist, a horrifying smile stretched across her features at the sight of the defenseless creature before her.

                “One more thing before we end our little session…” The young woman sighed, “My name is Jinxx… not Jane… Is that clear?” She demanded haughtily while the tranquilizer gun was pressed lethally between his eyes. “I want you to promise me that’s what you’ll tell security when they find you in a few hours…”

                The Doctor opened his mouth to speak but Jinxx cut him off, “Nod, yes if you agree. Don’t speak…”  Christopher nodded, fear and panic evident in his eyes.

                Jinxx cackled before assuming a more stoic expression, “Very good… Now, smile for the birdie.”  

 


	3. Carnal Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long time coming... unfortunately my inspiration for this fic has all but disappeared. Hopefully I can reclaim some of that initial motivation in the coming weeks.

                She stood over the limp body of her therapist, a prominent purple welt now forming on his forehead where she’d shot him.  His eyes were wide and glass-like as he stared off into nothing, his mouth slightly agape with a small tendril of drool gently dripping out from the corner.

                Smirking devilishly, Jinxx pranced over the body to reach his desk, on the hunt for any other essentials she might need to ease her escape.  She poured over the filing cabinets and drawers, finding a delicious collection of items that would certainly serve their purpose later on in her lively game of cat and mouse.  As though Arkham Asylum were an elementary school, there were various hall passes designated to the goody-two-shoes inmates who were capable of servicing themselves without the aid of the wardens.  Touching the top sheet revealed that it was covered in a thin layer of dust; a clear sign that there hadn’t been that good of an inmate in a long time.  They were practically mythical creatures at this point. 

                She carefully pried one from their respective pile and gripped a nearby pen.  With as decent a handwriting as she could muster, Jinxx carefully wrote out the allotted duration for her free-time—which would go from 3pm to 6pm, respectively—and then provided a looping, chaotic scrawl along where the doctor would’ve signed if he were conscious.  She had only an hour before the visiting session at the Asylum would commence, and only two hours thereafter to take advantage of as her window of escape.  Not a lot of time, but she didn’t exactly hold enough power to argue that aspect.   However, it was when she got to the ‘name’ portion of the yellow ticket that she bit her lip.  Shame bubbled up like vomit at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it back down and laboriously wrote out ‘Jane Doe’.

                God, how she hated that name. It felt so stereotypical; so fake.  As though she were a doll on a days-old display.

                Glancing towards the crumpled doctor once more, she noticed a file on the side-table, filled with a dozen-or-so papers which were as disorderly and unkempt as Arkham, herself, was.  There was no doubt in Jinxx’s mind that this was her file; exact citations of every one of her sins and all the history they might’ve discovered about her in the recent months that she’d resided under their care.  Perhaps, if the Arkham staff were to have… misplaced… such a valuable collection of documents, it would be that much more difficult for them to track her down.  This was an intriguing element to the puzzle and one that she would take full advantage of.

                Without much more thought on the matter, she crammed the beige file under her gown, tucking it into her panties to keep the papers from falling out, and made her way towards the door.  

                With all the fluidity of a cat on the prowl, Jinxx crept out of the therapist’s office, tip-toeing gently against the linoleum ground, her bare feet numb against the chilly flooring.  Despite the uncomfortable circumstances, her pursuit to freedom would not falter.  She was on a mission, after all,—a smaller element of the actual goal, but a valid one nonetheless—to find a way out of Arkham without anyone taking notice. 

                Upon the resonating chatter of a few wardens speaking together, Jinxx wasted no time in ducking into the nearest doorway.

                It was a supply closet from the looks of things.  From the various dust-clad filing cabinets taking up residence by the furthermost walls, to the unruly shelves of cleaning supplies looming far over her head.  Jinxx wondered how long it’d be before a janitor, or anyone for that matter, discovered that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. 

                No. She couldn’t let that happen.  She wouldn’t. 

                  There was an analog clock just outside the door, and upon peering out of the tiny window of bulletproof glass, Jinxx realized soon that she had less than 15 minutes to blend into the accumulating crowds and leave before anyone suspected her of being an inmate. 

                Anger bubbled beneath her breasts at the realization that she would not be able to make it out before the allotted amount of time had run out, especially if she needed to free The Joker in so short of a time. Muttering a curse, she made a bee-line for the furthermost cells, and where Solitary Confinement was concealed just beyond the public’s view.

 

*****

 

                It was as swift as it was unpredictable.  Within moments, Jinxx held a knife to the stoic guard having been found skulking along the dismal halls, ignoring how shabby the neglected blade was.  It didn't matter how dull the point was since from where she had it poised against the older man’s throat, it could’ve been a butter knife and it wouldn't have made a difference. 

                The older man froze, his eyes fearful as they traced the length of the makeshift sword she held.

                “Who are you.” He stammered, desperately struggling to uphold some air of superiority against the young woman having caught him off guard.  

                Jinxx smiled despite herself; this was fun.

“Someone who’s going to get to see the Joker one way…~” the blade’s tip idly spun in the empty air closest to the guard’s face while she sang mockingly into his ear.  “… or another…”

Regardless of her bedraggled appearance, Jinxx’s presence was as demanding for attention as any politician, and yet as lethal as a starved animal.

With a trembling hand, the guard reached into his belt’s numerous pockets, his sausage fingers struggling to grasp the ring of keys connected to the lowermost pouch. 

“Throw them over there.” Jinxx commanded, pressing the weapon coarsely against the man’s pulsating throat.  A tiny sliver of blood emerged against his wrinkled flesh, but it was barely even a paper-cut.  A loud jangling confirmed that he’d followed her demand, however simplistic. 

“Do you have any weapons?”

“W-well, I—,”

“That was not an essay question; I expect a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response.”

“Yes.”

“Drop them along with the keys. Don’t make me wait any longer than I need to.”

Sure enough, the uproarious clatter of a taser as well as a collection of extra bullets having been left behind within the numerous collection of pockets he owned around his belt.  Not a single gun or knife was collected amidst the pile having been arranged.

“Hm, no gun?” She held the knife even tighter against his neck, causing him to wail incoherently while a small crimson trail ran down the length of his neck.  He pleaded for her mercy, desperately struggling to explain the circumstances that prohibited wardens from holding any legitimate weapons, yet Jinxx didn't care enough to listen and instead waited for the incessant ramblings to cease before she offered him an almost sympathetic smile. 

“Excellent… You’ve been helpful to me, and I will remember that.  One last thing, however, and then I’ll be on my way…” She sighed right before her lips chastely pecked against his cheek.  He was still shaking.  “Your uniform-jacket.  Take it off and put it on the countertop, there.”

The panicked old man fumbled with each button on the front of his uniform, his breathing coming out in soft, quick wheezes.  At last, however, the coat fell away, leaving the man in his undershirt and the remainder of his uniform.

Jinxx beheld the offering for a moment, clearly mulling something over within her addled mind right before her lips returned to the older man’s ear.

“Nighty-night…” 

Before he had a moment to inquire as to his well-being, Jinxx had nonchalantly yanked the knife from one side of his throat to the next, tearing into the arteries and leaving him for dead in a matter of moments while he choked and sputtered on his own blood.  By the time he’d even realized what’d happened, he was too far gone to so much as offer a scream for help. 

                “Thanks so much…” Jinxx coughed before plucking the key-card from the man’s belt and tugging the uniform-jacket around her knobby shoulders.  With gentle care, she tucked the knife into the waistband of her jumpsuit, having already torn a hole between either side of the elastic in order to accommodate the weapon’s size.

                With very little time remaining after she’d ensured that her disguise was believable, Jinxx returned to the entryway to the Solitary Confinement, leaving the gory officer behind in a pool of his own blood.

               

***** 

                He was bent over a corner, the edge of his forehead pressed tightly against the cushioned walls while he allowed his fingertips to flex every now and again to keep from his limbs going numb.  Straight-Jackets were a medieval torture device, but one that was still commonly used to restrain the more unpredictable inmates.  Apparently, the green haired, self-proclaimed Clown-Prince was one such inmate.  He would’ve sooner had electroconvulsive therapy than suffer the ill effects of a mosquito bite for another day longer while under the cruel confines of his daily uniform. 

                With his overgrown hair harboring enough grease to practically drip onto the floor, and his nails having established a rat-like quality to them, The Joker was no more a man as he was a beast.  His asylum shirt and pants were weathered and stained to the point of their original color being indiscernible behind the grime, and the straight-jacket clasped around him was nothing short of rags at this point.  It was as though the world, and even Arkham Asylum itself, was desperately struggling to ignore and forget about the godlike crime-lord having been incarcerated, even to the point of neglecting his hygienic rites as a human being.

                The room itself was repulsive beyond what could be described if anyone dared take notice:

                Half of the padded flooring was dedicated to a bog of human waste, while the furthest corner harbored a horrific isle of food-trays and leftovers having long ago decayed into a colorless, shapeless mass of fuzzy mold and filth. There had once been a time where the scent would’ve suffocated him, but by now, he’d become blinded to it, just like all of Gotham had become blinded to him.  No longer did he eat what was shoved through the food-slot by the guards on a fairly regular basis, but instead allowed the leaning tower of plastic, steel, and even, cardboard trays to join the rest, choosing instead to starve as food no longer served its purpose.  Not even a victim of anorexia could attempt to match his body-mass, as he obviously would’ve died so much earlier if not for the biochemical transformations he’d endured.  Now, he was as a long-decomposed body, his bones protruding out as though his skin had been painted over the frame of his skeleton rather than stretched over.  His hair was long and unruly, growing from the top of his head like a collection of sickly, green dreadlocks while his deeply-sunken eyes beheld nothing more than a hollow pupil.    

                By this point, death was a hapless pursuit, as the chemicals which’d otherwise evolved and distorted him into the creature he was today had also given him the curse of an unnaturally long lifespan and a tolerance to even the most deadly of conditions.  Perhaps, it had been The Batman having spent so many long years bludgeoning him beyond any normal man’s ability to heal which’d caused this perverted immunity towards chronic suffering; there wasn’t a real answer, and there never would be.  If anything, the animalistic regime he’d been confined to by Arkham’s finest had likely worsened his already exacerbated psychopathic tendencies.  He was no more simply a ‘ _Prince’_ of Crime, The Joker was a god of mayhem and torture, and the world had made it so.   

                The unfamiliar scream of the door opening behind him caused The Joker’s bloodshot eyes to fall open in bewilderment and delirium.  He didn’t move, fevered amusement rooting him to the exact spot he’d been sitting in for the past days.  It must’ve been a mistake; he was condemned.  Why would anyone come to visit him now?  

                Silence answered the unspoken inquiry, and Joker almost felt compelled to turn and behold the stupid visitor who dared trespass into his territory.  Yet right before he was able to, he felt the grip of the sturdy cloth having imprisoned him in his own embrace become loosened.  This continued until his arms fell slack to his sides, and the jacket itself ripped away like a second skin.  Blood and gore from the multiple attempts to escape had long ago stained the heavily abused uniform, and Joker was only too surprised to see his emaciated limbs twitching and cavorting once more from the unexpected freedom. 

                Turning, he beheld a strange figure; a guard. 

                She had an unruly tangerine bun at the back of her head while a thick pair of sunglasses disguised her tell-tale features from view.  

                For once, The Joker didn’t have a witty comeback to the peculiar circumstance. “You’re not Harley…” He wheezed softly.

                Jinxx snorted. “No, I’m not.  Do with your freedom what you will; we had an agreement, did we not?” Her rare accent brought Joker back to the long days where she and him would have casual conversations about the weaknesses of others as well as the unexpected, yet widely appreciated, methods of torture that could be enacted with very easy-to-come-by trinkets.   

                Confusion having once shone prominently on The Joker’s features was abruptly replaced with astonishment, and then satisfaction. “I’m impressed.”

                “Can’t say the same for you.” She retorted before turning on a heel.  With a chanced glance over her shoulder, The Jinxx arched an eyebrow upon seeing that The Joker was still frozen where he sat.  Was he shell-shocked? 

“Do you expect me to carry you? Come on.”

                He did not take her sarcasm with much fervor, but couldn’t deny that the girl had spunk.

 After rolling over onto his haunches, he rose to his full 6’5, his knees buckling more often than he’d care to admit to anyone outside of Arkham. 

                With a surely amount of effort on his part, the green-haired creature emerged from his cell, gaunt and teetering on his feet.  That would change with time, of course, but for now, the slightest gust of wind could cause him to lose his balance.  He wasn’t going to let The Jinxx know about that, however, having to establish some form of superiority and all, but it would take some effort to get used to being on his feet again.  He could scarcely remember the last time he’d been able to walk of his own free will, and with that being said, could hardly feel the nerve-endings in his legs. 

                Upon seeing the recently executed guard on the ground and clad only his underthings, there was no denying that The Joker became aroused at the sight.  The deep crimson blood was enough to drive any serial-murderer mad with the desire to kill anew, especially for the circumstances pertaining to The Joker's undesired ‘dry-spell’.  With very little reluctance on his part, The Joker tore through a collection of cabinets as though in search of an item of vital importance.  Jinxx watched with confusion as the older man hobbled about; had the Clown-Prince gone completely insane?  They had to get out of Arkham as soon as possible; not rummage through the abundance of drawers like a jewel-thief!

                That’s when a safe came into view, causing even Jinxx’s eyes to widen with a start.  Both of them were frozen in bewilderment at the thick iron box with the keypad lock adorning the front, clearly uncertain of how to proceed with their newfound discovery.

                Jinxx, of course, was the first to break the silence. “You don’t know the code…”

                “Obviously….” Joker replied haughtily. “only because there isn’t one… when you’ve been kept in prison for as long as I have, you pick up loose information and hang onto it.  This safe is a proxy; a desperate attempt to keep its contents protected from anyone who’d be too far gone to find it.  See?”

                Sure enough, the safe’s door fell open with little to no effort, causing Joker’s eyes to glisten with excitement.   “… Arkham’s last resort for the high-security prisoners if they were ever found outside their cells…”

Joker scooped up the rifle and cocked it, his gaze flitting into the barrels to check its contents.

                “Locked and loaded.” He muttered, sounding as eager as a child at Christmas time. “It’s been a long time since I’ve handled one of these bad boys.”

                “Alright, well as long as you remember which end to shoot from,…” Jinxx snorted in the background.

                She didn’t have a chance to conclude her statement before The Joker loaded the gun and fired it four times into the deserted hallway.  She practically clobbered him on the spot, ignoring the horrific smell of the neglected man’s uniform, and attempted to yank the gun away from his hands.  He was obviously batshit insane; now the entirety of Gotham was probably on their way to investigate the gunshots.    

                “What the fuck are you doing you moron!?” She roared under her breath, her mismatched eyes as fiery as her hair while she glowered at him and shook him by the collar of his jumpsuit.  Already she could hear the sound of approaching wardens arriving. 

                The Joker didn’t respond, but rather smiled until his rotted teeth were bared.  “Life’s no fun without a little chaos, darling…”

                And for the first time in far too long, The Joker let out a loud-resounding cackle, which sounded both like a hyena and a crow’s screech in unison.  At the same time, the rifle was reloaded and a flurry of bullets spat from the barrels upon the approach of the wardens.  Screams filled the air as each one fell to the ground in a pile.  As soon as the first band had been eradicated,  The Joker damn near skipped to where the nearest exit surely waited.

 

*****  

                One hinge broke away with little difficulty, and the second one fell soon after that. Before long, the door was brutally abused until the inch-thick metal had escaped its threshold.   In strode Joker and another woman clad in a warden’s uniform, but boasting the most prominent neon orange locks that had ever been seen.

                “Evening lads, mind if I interrupt?” The Joker cackled at the guards having been taking their lunch-break.  They hadn’t even had the time to rise from their seats before they were shot between the eyes and fallen to the ground. 

One had managed to evade the initial spray of bullets, and was in the process of aiming a tranquilizer gun in Joker’s direction, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid Jinxx for very long. 

Jumping on the sturdy man’s shoulders, she pried at his neck with her fingernails, clawing until a sticky red liquid began to pulsate out from his gaping throat.  He fell over and Jinxx was instantly smothering his face into the ground until he eventually stopped thrashing. 

                “You’re good at that,” Joker mused, his crazed blue eyes dancing with mischief.  “I’d love to see what chaos you can cause with a rocket-launcher…”

                Jinxx smiled a monstrous snarl before straightening and kicking the unconscious guard with the brunt of her heel.  Throughout the ground where the dormant guards laid painting the linoleum floor with their blood, a half-dozen handguns stood out from amidst the crimson.  Not a single one was even remotely appealing to Jinxx, despite her weaponless state.  

                “They’re all duds… All for show none for tell.” Jinxx explained more to herself than to the man lurking behind her.  “Apparently, it keeps the patients in line and away from heavy artillery.”  

That’s when she spotted it; a periwinkle box belted to the female-cop’s belt.  It was spattered with blood, but that fact alone did little to avert Jinxx’s intrigue. “This might work, though.”

It was a taser, and despite its trivial-seeming appearance, Jinxx knew the ramifications of discounting the little machine’s power.  Regardless of who, or what, the victim was, the electrical charges which would latch on and release an obnoxious rush of electricity would always leave them curled in a ball and screaming in agony.

                Joker watched as she held the toy-like device gingerly in her hand, moments before aiming and firing it at a guard whom she noticed had begun moving.

                The uncanny dance the guard performed upon being shocked caused The Joker to cackle in merriment.

                However, right before Jinxx could reload the unintimidating little machine at her hands, the shriek of an alarm carried on overhead, bathing the room in a deep scarlet hue while the power was cut and the sounds of panic began to arise around them.

                If Joker was disturbed by the new events, he didn’t show it.  “Let us be on our way, ginger.  Apparently, our absence has been noted.”

                Before Jinxx could make any kind of observation towards their plight, and how they might go about escaping, Joker abruptly grabbed her by the collar of her disguise, and charged deeper into Arkham’s tunnels, the red-shining light glimmering all the while.

                Jinxx, at first, tried to escape from the ironclad grip of the imposing serial-murderer, sputtering out curses and threats all the while she struggled.  Behind them, the sounds of approaching footfalls resounded to the point of sounding like thunderclaps, and Jinxx knew that despite not being able to see the multitudes of wardens coming to reclaim them, there was too many for the two of them to take on alone.  Joker obviously understood this as well, so why was he going deeper into the Asylum?  Shouldn’t they be closer to the outside walls in order to break free at the earliest opportunity?

                All of a sudden, Joker halted, causing Jinxx to smack into his backside suddenly.  He barely even flinched as a result before he turned towards the empty wall, leaning against its opposite with a lazy smirk.

                “What are you doing?!” Jinxx shrieked under her breath.

                Joker turned to look at her before placing his index finger against her lips. “Hush, daddy has everything sorted out.”

                Did he actually believe that would soothe Jinxx’s worries about being caught again and subject to all of Arkham’s practices? 

                That’s when a rumbling could be heard from somewhere afar; a roar which far surpassed that of the armylike warden’s approaching footsteps. 

                Jinxx’s hand had scarcely wrapped around the taser at her hip before the rumbling began shaking the very ground on which she stood. 

                That’s when a loud crashing, followed by the resounding cackle of a jackhammer, proceeded to tear a hole into the wall a yard or so from where the escapees had stood.  Cement grit and metal debris abruptly encapsulated the hallway, causing Jinxx to fall to the ground and cover her head out of fear of injury.  The noise became completely unbearable upon the arrival of a monstrous contraption. 

                Jinxx chanced a glance in the direction of the chaos which had since begun to falter and cease, and was only too surprised to see what had emerged to attend to their rescue;

                A tank;

                A repurposed American tank painted to look like a child’s toy, and fixed with a drill at the front end rather than a missile launcher.   

                With a plethora of headache-inducing stripes, smiling faces, and polka-dots, the brightly painted piece of machinery shone like plastic almost everywhere.  The drill itself was obviously made of extremely resilient steel due to its ability to tear through Arkham’s defenses so seamlessly, though the swirl which adorned its volume made it look as weak as a wooden building block.   

                A motley collection of creatures suddenly emerged from the contraption, each one’s face painted alabaster white and detailed with a scarlet Glasgow smile which reached all the way to their ears.  It took little to no effort to know whom they modeled their appearance after.

                “Git in, boss!” One of the smaller of the party announced with a ravenous chortle before the various others also began to rearrange themselves to accommodate another passenger.  Sure enough, despite how shoddily the vehicle had been assembled, and how it looked about ready to combust, The Joker climbed aboard, leaving Jinxx to gape at the chaotic group having arrived to free their leader. 

                Joker’s head pivoted around towards the scrawny woman standing amidst the piles of wreckage which’d accumulated almost instantly after the fact.  Their eyes met if only for a moment, before The Joker offered her a one-handed salute, a smug grin causing the alabaster tinge of his flesh to crease at the edges before he, too, clambered into the cockpit.

                “Come on, dollface,” He shrieked over the roar of the tank’s engine being reignited.  “A deal’s a deal!”  

                With the metallic clap of his hand against the outer shell of the tank, Jinxx wasted little time in clambering up the wiry, little ladder and practically falling into the Joker’s chest as a result of her clumsy chase.       

                “Let’s go, boys!”  Joker proclaimed to the group before the machine sluggishly began to turn on an axis.  The wardens had arrived too late to stop the ensuing madness of Joker and Jinxx’s ultimate escape, but were there just soon enough to see the disturbingly similar pair wave and bid the most _heartfelt_ of farewells.

                Right before any of them could even dare approach the new tunnel having been torn into Arkham’s barriers, it slowly, ever so slowly, began to cave in, leaving the guards frozen in shock at what they’d just beheld.        

**Author's Note:**

> Madness is a nuisance,  
> and no one is immune.  
> Your sister, mom, or daughter  
> may become a raving loon"


End file.
